Never Forgotten
by StarGleekLantern
Summary: Very atypical vampire story set in the Luminosity universe  by Alicorn , set one year after Radiance. It tells the story of Tomas, a normal human gay teen, who life is changed when the vampire Sasha falls in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Never Forgotten**

_You are your memories._

_But could I preserve who I am? Even it if meant to stay away from my family and friends? 'Away' in the deepest meaning of the word?_

_The price was that and more, and I could take it and strip myself from so much of who I was, only to regain so much more in return._

_All I had to do is make the choice, but I knew it would be a long way back._

__This is how I decided to stay in Forks.__

* * *

><p><span>Chapter One: <span>Remembering Red

This is my and Sasha's first meeting. It might be a bit different to what most are used too. But this is our story.

My family and I just had moved to Ohio; my family includes myself, my mother Mary, my stepfather Richard and their daughter Sally. I had an older brother named Harold, but he lived on campus at his collage.

I was distracted and listening to music as I was returning home from taking a walkabout around my new neighborhood. I had just seen a green-eyed, unnaturally red-headed woman and was walking idly wondering about eye colors when I spotted him a few steps down the street. The striking red-wine iris stood out; he was checking himself in the mirror, trying on sunglasses from a small shop. I then took notice of his face, so angelic that I had to make an effort to move my legs and not stare. By that time he had obviously noticed me. His brow furrowed and he blinked in confusion, and one little alarm in my head said that he probably was unfamiliar with (and unwelcome to) the possibility of a guy staring at him; a second alarm said that he might be self-conscious about his eyes and a third alarm politely reminded me that I had started to stare at him again.

I walked by him trying not to look, but holding a sign 'I am not looking at you' would have been more effective to not call attention to the fact that I was staring, and it might have blocked my view of him. There was no way to keep walking and avoid looking at him without becoming unnatural. He continued his staring, with the same look of confusion on his face.

It was ridiculous to feel nervous about walking by a random stranger, but once I walked a bit more past him and left him behind I felt much more relaxed. I took a moment to remember his face and his eyes, wonder if they were contacts, and feel guilty at staring at him and making him uncomfortable.

As I thought back, the fact that he looked _confused_ was strange. Someone born with red eyes would have been used to the fact that people would stared, someone with contacts would have _chosen_ the unusual attention-grabbing color, and he was so pretty that many people must stare at him frequently, if only for the aesthetic value. His skin was _very_ pale and he had long dark-blond hair in waves, only the eyes didn't fit with the general descriptions of angels.

He was buying sunglasses on a cloudy day, and wanted to hide his natural red eyes, I concluded. That was when he materialized right beside me.

"Hello," he said with a voice that only made the associations with angels stronger.

"Hello," I repeated automatically. I was startled enough that I stopped walking.

He apparently decided to buy the sunglasses (or steal them), but covering his eyes didn't exactly diminish his beauty. It only made him look like a model out of some fashion magazine that gays are so stereotypically fond of reading, but I never took an interest in.

"My name is Sasha." He smiled at me and more angelic allusions sprouted into my mind.

"Hello, Sasha," I responded, more confused than I should have been.

He kept smiling, and there was an awkward silence and after a moment he continued, "Your name?"

"Oh, I Tomas." I kicked myself mentally after saying that- _he is a stranger._ "Uh sorry, my name is Tomas."

He chuckled at my awkwardness. "Hello, Tomas." That was the _fourth_ "hello" in the brief conversation, I was glad when Sasha finally said something new, "Do you live around here?" (even if it was a bit intrusive.)

"Yes," I left out the fact that I just had moved here and was exploring the town to find the best route between home and school.

"Can you give me some directions to the nearest park? I'm new here."

"No, I'm sorry, I don't actually know my way around," I couldn't see Sasha eyes behind his sunglasses, but his smile broke in confusion, "I also just moved here," I added tentatively, trying to sound apologetic, and his smile returned.

The small map that my new neighbors made for me didn't have any parks on it, just the route to school and back, nothing more.

"Tomas, are you lost?"

"No. I'm just taking a walk."

"Tomas, do you care if I join you?"

I took a moment to think about his intentions. It seemed _extremely unlikely_ that he was truly planning just to _walk_ with me. Sasha was _very pretty_, and I presumed a couple of years older than me. Even if he was new and desperate enough to make friends in town… choosing a boy who stared at him to hang out with was a little weird. I thought about the other alternative… I didn't have the vanity to believe that _he_ was interested in _me_, not _in that way. _That was pleasant, but not enough to shut up my inner paranoia. I pessimistically considered that he might be some kind of predator and was luring me to a trap to beat me because he was homophobic, or just didn't like when people stared at his eyes, something like that.

"Actually, I really need to be heading home now," I said finally. This apparently disappointed him and I felt a little bad about my thoughts.

"Oh." He paused for a moment thinking. "Tomas, can I-"

"No," I said before even before he finished his question. I felt awkward enough that I turned around to leave.

"**Tomas don't go**_."_ His voice sounded different, desperate or supplicant.

I stopped at once, I couldn't move, my legs just wouldn't obey me. I was sure that it was completely irrational to feel _that_ compelled by his request, but the important thing was that I couldn't move away. Finally, I found that I could turn around and face him. "Please, I really have to go."

I was conscious that it was ridiculous to ask for his permission, but it felt like the natural thing to do. He looked pained, like we had known each other for years rather than just the few awkward minutes and I was telling him that I was going to leave him forever and never see him again.

"Okay, Tomas," he eventually said. Sasha looked down at the pavement mournfully. "**Don't worry about me finding my way to the park**_"_ he said emphatic, like he was talking about going to war, "we _will_ see each other again."

"Yes, okay," I said nervously and found that I had control of my body again. "Sure," I couldn't mask the nervousness in my voice, "Another day," I added in sympathy.

I kept walking at a steady pace, trying not to look afraid, but once I turned around the corner and out of his line of sight, I started running, uncaring to the stares I would gather.

* * *

><p>I ran all the way home.<p>

When I got into the house, I noticed my mom unpacking some of the boxes that had compiled in the living room area. After drinking down a couple glasses of water, to quench my thirst brought on by the ridiculous running, I joined her. We started organizing what we found in the boxes. Small friendly arguments about what were found in the boxes erupted. Like why in the world did we bring a gallon of white paint when the house was red like Sasha's eyes?

It was just me and my Mom for the time being. Sally was with my mother's parents until the house wasn't littered with boxes and Richard had to deal with some emergency in his old office.

I had helped mom pack everything back at our old house in Sacramento, but we had failed to think about proper box organization and mixed a lot of items in the same box that belonged to different people. Mom had also packed some nostalgic mementos with everyday items. In short, we had to take things out of the boxes, make little clusters sorted by people and take them to their respective rooms. Every so often my mom or I would find a relic of the ancient past and would treat me with small story; my first word, the first time I went to the Zoo and had nightmares because of the monkeys (hideous things!), or when Harry got stung by several bees from a beehive that he poked (and I was a unsympathetic little brat about it), or how both me and Sally had ours first steps in the porch of our old home (and how she had to be kept away from the pool after that).

I drank up stories like that, but I hated that I couldn't remember them myself. I could tell you the full name of every person that I had class with and other unimportant things like that, but I would trade the first and last name of half of them just to remember what it felt like to say "hug" for the first time. I would prefer to _never forget_ anything.

I also had some memories of my own, but Mom lacked the interest to hear them. She only really liked to tell them. So in the quiet moments between nostalgic tales and moving things to their new homes, I took a time to think and remember by myself.

Richard was a Trekkie and had tried to 'convert' me and my brother, but only had been successful with his own daughter. My mom was more than glad to have an excuse to move all the posters and toys (collectables!) that she loathed to have in their room to Sally's. Sally's new bedroom already started to look like it belonged to a ten-year-old boy, not a ten-year-old girl. It has blue walls and already filled with some toys (collectables!) on the shelves. There were a few animal plushies to give the minimum amount of feminine touch. I placed a picture frame, with her as a Vulcan, on the shelf and left the room.

My room was the barest of them all. I only had what I thought was a reasonable amount of clothing and books. I honestly preferred to leave it for when we were all settled in, and I could do it at my own pace without having to worry about everyone else. Still, I took a moment to see if there was anywhere that I could use as a hiding place. Failing that, I discretely took some of my old journals and hid them between assorted books, hiding them in plain sight until I could find a better place. I hesitated a moment to look at the journal I had two years ago, but decided that it wasn't the best time to deal with them. To deal with Gabe.

Harry was in college and wouldn't have a room in the new house. He would stay in my room when he visited. I was already dreading his inane sports talk. We had little in common, so he would awkwardly start conversations about sports teams when we were alone, to make up for the silence. He had taken most of his significant possession with him to collage so his boxes contained just a few assorted items that were more important to our parents than to him. I carried his boxes to the basement, next to the bucket of white paint.

The entire organization process occupied most of my attention, but not enough to make me stop thinking about Sasha.

'_I was such a coward'_

Yet, I couldn't think of anything more sensible to do. There wasn't any other more obvious a survival rule than mistrust of strangers, _especially_ if they show the interest that Sasha had.

Looking back, the fact that Sasha was so beautiful was what made me so anxious. I might have actually had given him a chance if he wasn't _so_ pretty. For one thing, it wouldn't have made me so suspicious. An average looking guy being attracted to me seemed so much more likely than an angelic looking supermodel doing the same thing.

That night I looked myself in the mirror, trying to see through Sasha's eyes. What could he have seen in me? The inspection in the mirror only showed a young man with short dark hair and dark brown eyes, and the barest tanned tint in his skin (from the pool party in the old house last weekend), and someone who was much too skinny. I plucked out my contact lenses, and put on my old glasses that I kept on the dresser. Without them I wasn't particularly nerdy looking. To me I was… cute, in adorable non-treating way. I knew there are some guys who liked that. Could have Sasha been one of them?

I brushed my teeth and prepared myself for sleep. Maybe I was taking it the wrong way. Sasha was an angelic-looking guy, but one that had never had the 'chance' to flirt with another male or maybe his strong reaction was because he had never turned down before (that was _quite_ believable) and I hurt his ego.

I starting to write about my day in my journal, once a week I stored everything in my computer, but writing felt more natural on a day to day basis.

I was terrified of losing my memories, _you are your memories_.

Luckily, I actually had a pretty good memory. I often got complimented because of it, and that caused me to become more attached to it. Not as much as the idea of _losing who I am_, but it was nice to see people impressed with obscure trivia or fact that I had memorized. I wrote journals; once I wrote something down I hardly ever forgot. I kept them more as a kind of comfort, if I opened a page at random and read the first few lines I could easily remember the rest word by word (I checked).

Losing all that to age was absolutely terrifying. My memories defined me, they were my identity much more than the label "Tomas J. Anderson" was, or that I was seventeen, or who my family was or that I was gay, or anything; those were just traits, buttons that were pushed and created. The memories were what _truly_ defined who I was.

Already under the covers I decided that it was unhealthy to think that much about someone that I had spent less than 10 minutes with. Tomorrow I was going to unpack my computer and write about him in my journal (if possible I would try to think in non-angel related descriptions of him). I might see him again and half-heartedly wished so before falling asleep.

Sasha, however, was making sure that I would see him again.

* * *

><p><em>Months later, Sasha and I sat <em>_on a couch. He looked angelic as always. I was holding his hand and had just finished describing the day we met._

_After a pause I looked him in the eyes._

"_I am sorry," he says._

"_I already told you that it has lost its meaning," I started saying, more encouragingly than with disapproval._

"_Not to me," he said sadly __"and I don't think I can apologize enough for what I did next."_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Remembering the Fear of Death

I woke up dizzy and cold, feeling like I was outside during a cold windy night. I opened my eyes groggily, and had a startling revelation.

_I was outside._

My sight was blurry, but I could tell that the green blurs passing by at high speed were trees. They barely registered in my mind as more than an indication of where I was. I could feel myself wrapped up tight in a blanket with ropes knotted in several strategic places around my body, making it so I couldn't move even if I tried. I looked up at the sky to see that it was just past dawn and very cloudy. All these things were unimportant compared to the fact that Sasha was holding me in his arms.

Terror took over my brain. The fact that I had woken up in an unfamiliar place with a near stranger, and that it was a panic-inducing situation that my mind failed to come up with the questions, "How can he run so fast while holding me?" or even, "Why didn't I wake up before?", I just stared at his face, paralyzed with fear. Sasha stared back at me entranced. Since I had woken up he hadn't take his focus off of me and seemed to keep his impossible pace just fine. His red eyes seemed brighter.

"Tomas," he finally said after an eternity, "my love."

I acknowledged that I was going to die, my death felt certain and imminent. It was a simple yet intense feeling that somehow managed to increase my fear even more. Sasha must have noticed, his face become the perfect mask of the merciful and compassionate angel, it did not calm me at all.

"**Tomas, do not be afraid****,**_"_ he paused for a second, "**Tomas, do not try to escape****,**_"_ and escape became impossible.

A few moments past before we reached a hill or a small mountain, Sasha slowed as we ascended he drew me closer to him, and my forehead brushed his jaw. His skin felt cold, icy even, but the temperature was a small, easily explained thing. What was weird (well, weirder) was the texture, smooth and rocky, like a statue. Of all things, the confusion from _that_ managed to diminish the fear, and I blurted something that Sasha managed to understand as, "What?"

"I know you are afraid, my love." For a moment, I really believed his merciful look, "But soon you will soon understand and we will be together," but only a moment.

We reached an old shack, a _really_ old shack, the windows were gone and the door had a hole the size of my fist in it. He placed me on the porch, carefully, like a baby, and untied me enough for me to shrug off the blanket. It hadn't been tight enough to give me circulation problems, but it felt better and just a little bit colder now that I had only my pajamas to keep me warm. He reached for my hand to help me up and I took it without resistance. He pulled me up and along with him into the shack. I could do nothing else but follow his cue. Hope was a distant, lost thing.

There were two other people inside the shack. One was an older man, probably a trucker judging from his attire and weight. He was almost perfectly still. The other was a woman. I couldn't see her face, but she was dark-skinned and sobbing uncontrollably. They were both were standing inside of circles marked in the floor with chalk. There was a third circle. It was for me, I was sure of that.

I tried to leave, I really did, but my legs wouldn't move, they weren't heavy and felt no different despite my fear. My feet just wouldn't make the steps toward the door. I actually managed to turn around and face the door, but to actually approach it was… I couldn't describe it. There was nothing to describe, because nothing happened.

"I am sorry" he said softly to them and then turned to me "I am sorry, Tomas. I do not want you to be afraid," he said softly when I stared at him, "once this is over we will be so happy, my love."

I turned to face the other two people. The woman actually had managed to stop sobbing and they were both were looking at us in fear. I realized that- it was crazy, like the entire situation it was likely that they couldn't leave too. Sasha had done something to us, and while we were all unrestrained _physically_ we just couldn't make any move to leave. I remembered that he had done the same thing yesterday. I could even remember the same odd timbre in his voice. My legs finally failed me and my body almost hit the floor, but Sasha caught me with unnatural speed.

"Tomas, Tomas, Tomas," he said like if it was a small afraid animal, "my love." He kissed my forehead, and his lips were so cold. "Just three days and we will be together for eternity."

He moved his mouth down to my neck and…

- He became unnaturally still. After one moment the hold of his arms trembled and he laid me down in the floor. I made the colossal effort to move my neck to look at him.

Sasha was staring unfocused at nothing, his face looked horrified. I half expected God to reveal itself and admonish the evil Angel, but after almost one minute his eyes refocused. He still looked grave, like if he receive really bad news, and looked like he was going to cry. I couldn't feel any sympathy for him.

"You," he said unsure, "you can all… go."

* * *

><p><em>Sasha <em>_had crossed his arms and was hugging himself__, like he was cold or scared, his breath seemed to be irregular or desperate, despite the fact that he didn't need oxygen._

"_You look like you just had a nightmare," I said._

"_I was the nightmare," Sasha __said __dramatically._

* * *

><p>I didn't felt disappointed, it wasn't like that, but I did feel something akin to being indignant.<p>

"Tomas, I am sorry for everything… things have changed."

It mostly felt like a prank. _One where they drag you in the middle of nowhere and make you believe __you're __going to die_…

"**Tomas**_,_" he said and I knew it was that weird voice even before he said the damning words, "**do not remember this**."

He said it. I listened.

And time just _slipped._

* * *

><p><em>Slip<em>. The word just fits perfectly, anyone who ever fallen because the floor was wet or covered in ice knows what it feels like. One moment you are standing, the next you are wondering how you got to the ground. It was like that.

_Slip_. I was in the forest. _Slip_. Somewhere on a road. _Slip_. Inside of a truck. _Slip._ The backyard of my new house. _Slip._ My mom running towards me. _Slip_. My mom again, crying. _Slip_. One of my new neighbors comes closer. _Slip_. I don't even know where. _Slip_. _Slip_. I'm in a hospital? _Slip_. _Slip_. An air plane with a stranger? _Slip_. _Slip_._ Slip_._ Slip_._ Slip_.

"**Tomas, don't run away ****before ****they tell ****you ****everything,"** said Sasha's angelical voice.

I blinked slowly, adjusted my eyes and looked around. Someone had put my glasses on me. I was in a room luxuriously decorated in white and flowers, with several strangers. I looked to my left, Sasha's voice had come from there, and all I found was a closed door. I blinked, he wasn't there, and I looked back at the strangers.

In one corner was a pale blond man, across from him was another man and a woman, both cooper-skinned and strong. They looked at me with some degree of compassion- disguised as neutrality. In the other corner of the room there was a pale dark-haired woman, I recognized her from the airplane, she looked genuinely neutral and waved her hand in a polite goodbye, as she exited the room holding the door a bit too long.

Finally, right in front of me, sitting across the very-expensive-table was a girl with exaggerated long braided bronze hair. Her face _emanated_ genuine concern and the need to tell me something.

It was her job after all.


End file.
